


Haunted Visions

by Oliver__Niko



Series: Sylvain Week 2020 [3]
Category: Fire Emblem Series, Fire Emblem: Fuukasetsugetsu | Fire Emblem: Three Houses
Genre: Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Domestic, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Established Relationship, Fluff and Angst, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Nightmares, Post-War, Referenced violence, Trauma
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-07
Updated: 2020-06-07
Packaged: 2021-03-03 21:26:45
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,524
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24592258
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Oliver__Niko/pseuds/Oliver__Niko
Summary: It's doubtful that trauma from war will ever leave them. Even as Sylvain and Felix are blessed with marriage and their children, the past will haunt them.Together, however, they will continue to face it; this becomes apparent tonight, when Sylvain wakes from a nightmare and his husband is right there by his side.
Relationships: Felix Hugo Fraldarius/Sylvain Jose Gautier
Series: Sylvain Week 2020 [3]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1770871
Comments: 6
Kudos: 36





	Haunted Visions

**Author's Note:**

> Here's my last piece for Sylvain Week! It's been such a wonderful week full of great content, and I'm pleased I managed to create every day for it. It's what this man deserves.
> 
> And so, for the prompt dreams/nightmares. Hope you enjoy!

He can’t breathe. His eyes struggle to see, although simultaneously, every single sense is on fire. Hearing his heartbeat in his ears even whilst trapped in slumber, revolted by the scent of blood. So much of it, all over his hands, his body, and he cannot even tell whose it is.

There’s nothing but that blood, as well as sinister, glowing eyes amidst the darkness. As the Demonic Beast edges closer, he can see the subtle highlights of its claws, the drool dripping from a snarl.

“ _I’m sorry,”_ Sylvain says, because despite all his resentment towards his brother, how he knows justice had to be claimed, guilt still finds him when he remembers it had been his own blade to slay this monster. How there had been no choice but to end his life.

And the terror striking Sylvain from seeing this beast is not all that different to what he experienced as a child. Screaming and crying in that well, an echoing voice unable to be heard. It’s possible that Miklan had always been a monster. Those terrified sounds he induced in Sylvain can be heard now in this darkness, as Sylvain is unable to take a single step back.

The shape of the Demonic Beast is clearer now. It’s raising an arm, ready to swipe at Sylvain. This is when his body functions enough to cover his head. Nothing reaches him. He blinks and straightens up, finding the scene around him has changed.

A cloud-ridden sky above the earth. Bodies sprawled all around him. Blood, still so much blood, at his very feet. Splattered over the armour of his shoes. He realises, once his hands are in front of him, that they’re holding onto the Lance of Ruin, drenched in the same sin.

_I killed them._ Is he any better than that mindless beast, who had once been his brother?

_I killed them._ Had his brother ever been _anything_ but human? Is Sylvain the same?

“ _Sylvain … Sylvain!”_

The voice is so unclear at first, his name could be uttered by the corpses at his feet. Calling out to him, condemning him for his murder.

But the world is growing lighter, and the voice speaking to him is louder.

“Sylvain!”

This time, it’s real, in front of him, and Sylvain knows he is finally awake before he has even opened his eyes. When they do open, Felix appears in his blurred vision, hovering over him with a frantic expression and hands on his arms.

“Oh, thank the Goddess,” Felix says. Quieter, almost breathless. “You’ve never gone that pale before.”

“Sorry I scared you, my love.” It’s not until Felix strokes a thumb beneath his eye that he realises tears are staining his cheeks.

“What did you dream of?”

“It’s nothing to worry about.” Sylvain sits up, wiping at his face with his arm. “Just some silly nightmares.”

“Sylvain.”

A voice that is soft yet firm. Sylvain stares at the man kneeling on his lap, the weight strangely reassuring—perhaps because it reminds him that the two are both here, alive. Should anyone understand, too, it is Felix. Neither of them are free from the trauma of their pasts. Nights like these are common, comforting the other, bringing each other back to a present when they are, in fact, safe and happy.

Sylvain inhales deeply. “It was Miklan at first. When he got transformed into a Demonic Beast, I mean. But that wasn’t really what got to me.”

Felix’s hands reach for Sylvain’s face, brushing over his bearded cheeks and tucking strands of hair behind his ears. Legs shifting so they wrap around him, Felix bringing himself closer.

“What happened?” he asks.

“I was on some kind of battlefield. So much blood, everywhere. There were so many dead bodies there.” His voice cracks; a hand squeezes reassuringly on his arm. “And I think I was the one who killed them.”

It’s far from rare for this to plague his mind. Remembering that whilst he and his husband were able to survive the war, grow together and be blessed with a family, not everyone else is as lucky. How some of those people do not have the same life _because_ of Sylvain.

Felix’s lips brush against Sylvain’s cheek, his forehead. Despite all his guilt, how there’s a part of him convinced he doesn’t deserve the life he has been gifted, he cannot stop himself from relaxing beneath those kisses.

“You know what I always say when you worry about this, don’t you?” asks Felix.

“To think about everyone I’ve saved.”

“Exactly. None of us wanted to kill. All of us are haunted by their deaths. But we saved a lot of lives in the process; our own, and a lot of people in the future.” Felix’s thumbs trace over Sylvain’s face. “I’m not saying your emotions aren’t understandable, because they are. It shows how much of an empathetic person you are, and how much you care for others. But you’ve done far more good than you have bad, Sylvain. You helped make the world a better place.”

“I—thank you, Felix.” Sylvain leans into Felix’s touch, a smile managing to find his face, even if only temporary. “I think I just worry that I’m no better than my brother, or anyone else we’ve thought, for taking lives as well.”

“You’re completely different to them. If you weren’t, you wouldn’t be feeling the guilt that you are now.”

“Yeah … I suppose that’s true. I’m definitely grateful for everything you say, I just …” Sylvain chuckles, even as a tear trickles from his eye. “I know this will sound selfish, when I’ve been dreaming about all those lives I’ve taken. But all I want is for that blood to stop haunting me.”

There’s a pang of suffering in Felix’s eyes; he too understands that wish. So simple, to not want that endless, dripping crimson to haunt you, although far from able to be rid of when you have survived war.

Sylvain hates that Felix can understand. As much as he wishes he himself didn’t have to suffer, he would if it meant others didn’t have to. But they do. _All_ of them do. And even though Sylvain wishes that they didn’t have to as well, a part of him, that which accepts there’s nothing to be done, no other result plausible from the war, is grateful. It’s comforting to not be alone and to be understood.

“I wish I could take it away from you,” says Felix, quietly. Sylvain smiles, even if forced.

“As I with you. And that notion means the world to me.”

“It doesn’t have to. It’s how anyone would feel.” Felix rests his forehead against Sylvain’s. An exhale of his breath brushes against Sylvain’s face, a whole lease of life and love. “I might not be able to take it away, nor will some hugs and kisses cure you of trauma. But I’m here for you and I’ll never leave your side. Not now, not ever.”

“I know, baby.” Sylvain leans in, a brief, light kiss brushed against Felix’s lips. “I definitely do know. I’ll never stop appreciating you for that, and all the patience you’ve had with me. I don’t—”

A finger against Sylvain’s lips interrupts him. “Don’t say for a moment that you don’t deserve me,” says Felix. “Or I’ll kick your ass.”

“Kick my ass? When running around after the kids leaves you holding your lower back?”

“Shut up. I can still wield a sword, you know.”

“I know, I know.” Sylvain smiles, burying his nose into Felix’s neck when brought into a hug, planting a slow, gentle kiss on the skin. “See? You care for me in this way, too. Making sure that I don’t say anything bad about myself.”

“You’ve gotten better at it, for sure. But I’m here to remind you.”

“And I you, when you’re insecure too.” Sylvain gives Felix a squeeze before breaking the hug. “I’m calmer now, thank you.”

A relieved smile finds Felix’s face. “Is there anything else you need to talk about?”

“No, I’m all good. But thank you.”

“Never have to thank me.”

Sylvain would argue, but he believes his kiss is enough to say how much he disagrees. He could thank Felix for a number of things. Loving him with such selflessness, remaining by his side all this time, caring for him, helping to guide him on the right path. Sylvain might do similar in return, their love built on this mutual love. But he still has every reason to be thankful.

The small things, as well. How waking up to this beautiful face every morning, watching as the early rays of sunshine wash over it, helps him to realise why stirring from slumber is a joy. All those soft laughs saved only for him. Felix knowing him more than he knows himself, how much this bursts through even the simplest of things.

Sylvain is endlessly grateful. Rather than do nothing but thank Felix, however, he will give all the love he has in return.

His sleep might be riddled in nightmares, but every day by Felix’s side is a dream.

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading!
> 
> If you'd like to check out the artwork side for this week and my general retweets and Sylvix rambles, feel free to find me on Twitter @/nikobynight. Have a lovely day and stay safe.


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